Captive of the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Five

When I woke up the next morning, the horde king was gone.

Emerging from a restless sleep, I felt even more exhausted than I had the night before. And when I shifted my legs, turning over in the wide bed, I hissed. The pain was even more severe as well.

I sat up gingerly, looking around the empty, dark, domed tent. I already knew he was gone, had woken briefly when he’d roused from bed in the early hours of morning, but it didn’t prevent me from scanning the quiet space warily.

When I was convinced I was truly alone, I blew out a small breath, pushing my wild, still-damp hair away from my eyes, my mind replaying the events of last night.

I picked at the fur blanket covering my thinly dressed body.

He’d told me I would be his queen.

His queen.

Not his whore.

Though truthfully, perhaps to the Dakkari, they were one and the same. He still expected access to my body, as evidenced by his admission last night. But he’d also said something about claiming me in the old Dakkari tradition, whatever that meant.

And he hadn’t allowed me to question him afterwards.

After he’d told me I’d be his ‘kassikari,’ he’d brought me to his bed, covered our bodies with the furs, and told me to sleep. I’d been tense, wanting answers, but he remained mute on the subject, had simply laid next to me, his long, bare side touching mine. Then he slept, his breathing evening out in a slow rhythm. Awake one moment and dead to the world in the next.

Now, he was gone.

I had no knowledge of what a horde king of the Dakkar did during the day. Was he gone on another ‘patrol?’ Was he somewhere in camp? Was he raiding another innocent settlement, taking treasures like the ones he had stored in his chests? Was he with one of his other whores?

Questions and more questions piled up in my mind until I thought I would scream. The events of yesterday were finally catching up with me and in the light of day, on the first day of my new life…I felt despair. I felt hopelessness. I longed to see my brother, to walk the quiet road of my village to the head seamstress’ home where I worked, to see the familiar hills just beyond the village gates.

Yet, I was there. Alone, in a domed tent of a horde king, among a people I knew almost nothing about.

Pushing off the furs, I looked down between my thighs and saw they were even redder than the night before, the sensitive skin chaffed and rubbed raw. When I touched the flesh, it stung and I prayed to all the gods and goddesses in the universe that I wouldn’t have to ride one of those beasts again.

It was a blessing in disguise, perhaps, I admitted to myself. After all, the horde king said he wouldn’t demand my body until I healed.

I didn’t know how to take his unexpected reprieve. Begrudgingly, I was thankful for it, though I knew it was only a matter of time before he expected my repayment in full.

I jumped when the tent flap pushed open, my head snapping up.

A female appeared, the one from last night, the one who’d spoken to me. She was followed by the other, the one who had not spoken to me. Both were still dressed in their gray shift dresses, their hair neatly plaited down their backs. One of them balanced a white bone tray, inlaid with gold, filled with small, steaming bowls of fresh meat and broth.

My mouth watered, my stomach growling. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, before Kivan had set our crop field on fire.

Had that only been yesterday? It seemed like weeks ago.

“Come and eat, Missiki,” the Dakkari female said, setting the tray down on a low table near the horde king’s chests. There were no chairs, only cushions on the floor. “Gather your strength.”

Desperate hunger filled me when I eyed the food. Five separate small bowls filled the tray. One bowl held braised meat, another dried meat. One held a creamy, steaming broth that filled the tent with a delicious aroma. Another held some kind of root vegetable and the last was filled with a fluffy grain, a deep purple in color.

It was more food than I’d eaten at once in years. I hadn’t had meat since the Uranian Federation had included it in their rations, but it had ceased two years prior. Fresh meat…I’d never had it. It was a luxury we were not allowed on Dakkar. We were not allowed to hunt their game.

My own mother had died in an attempt to give us fresh meat. We’d been starving and she’d been desperate. The memory of her, lying in the icy snow, mauled but still clinging to life made nausea churn in my gut.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, blocking out that memory, looking away from the food.

The two females exchanged a look. “The Vorakkar will be displeased if you do not eat. You must eat, Missiki.”

“I don’t care,” I said. I knew I was being petulant, but the thought of eating meat, of eating such a lavish meal, when my own brother, my own village, was hungry made me sick.

I’d obviously stumped them because the female changed tactics. “You can eat later. Let us get you dressed.”

For what purpose? I wanted to ask. I might as well stay naked in the horde king’s bed. That was where he wanted me, wasn’t it?

Stop, I told myself. I was sulking, feeling sorry for myself. They were only trying to do what they’d been tasked with. Would they be punished if I didn’t obey?

Nodding, I swallowed the sharp, sore pain that made it difficult to move as I swung my legs over the side of the bed.

“Oh, Missiki,” the female said, her features contorting when she saw the redness between my thighs. In Dakkari, she said something to the other female, who immediately left the tent. “Do you wish to bathe? Will it help?”

My brows furrowed. “I just bathed last night.” It seemed like a lavish waste of water to bathe again so soon. But of course, the Dakkari probably had endless resources at their disposal. It was their planet, after all.

The female frowned but didn’t say anything. Instead, she went to the bundle the other female had been carrying when they’d walked in and unwrapped it.

“This will not irritate your flesh,” she said, holding up a short skirt, followed by a top that looked entirely too short.

My cheeks heated, thinking how revealing the clothing was. “Er, I would prefer the clothes I came in.”

The female scrunched up her nose, blinking. “You want those rags over this?” She shook the top and the gold beads that adorned the front jingled musically. It looked heavy but well-made. I couldn’t imagine how long it took to sew those beads on.

“Yes,” I said bristling. I’d made those ‘rags’ myself, a long time ago.

“They are being cleaned, Missiki,” she said simply. “You must wear this until they are returned.”

I was about to protest but the other female, the silent one, returned with a small jar of a white, milky substance.

“What is that?” I asked warily.

“Salve for your pyroki burns. It will help the flesh heal, take the sting away.”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Nik?” the female asked, obviously dumbfounded that I would reject it. “Why?”

“I…” I trailed off, but then decided I would tell her the truth. There was no way around it and perhaps a female, even a Dakkari one, could sympathize. “He said he wouldn’t touch me until I healed.”

Both females looked even more confused.

“I want to avoid it as long as possible. I’m not ready to have sex with him, though I know that is my purpose now. I agreed to it,” I whispered, though I said the last part more to myself.

A cautious understanding finally entered the female’s eyes. She looked embarrassed actually and returned her attention to the clothing in her hands, inspecting the beads as if her life depended on it.

“Come, Missiki,” she finally said, raising her eyes. “We will dress you.”

She didn’t speak of the salve again as they went about their duties.

Though the shift dress the horde king had given me last night barely concealed my nudity, I would have preferred it over what they helped me dress in.

The skirt was made out of animal hide, similar to what the horde king had worn the night before. Tan in color, it was cleanly made, the stitching impressive. However, it came to my mid-thigh, exposing the majority of my legs. And I feared that if I bent over, my sex would be on display and exposed.

The gold beaded top was also too short, stopping just above my naval, molding to my breasts. Thankfully, the material was thick and the plethora of beads that decorated the front helped hide the outline of them. However, it left my shoulders and arms bare. The worst part, however, was that the neckline was attached to a thick golden band, which secured around my neck like a collar.

After helping me into sandals with very impractical, intricate, thin straps, the Dakkari females seemed pleased with their work. When I looked down at myself, my cheeks flushed with mortification because I felt every inch like a kept whore. Collared and exposed. All that was left was to be painted and coifed.

Which was apparently to be next, when I saw the females pulling out little pots of black and red pigments, a white bone brush, and gilded hair pins from their bundle.

“No,” I said, shaking my head, taking a step away. The beads on my top jingled and the collar around my neck felt too tight. “That’s quite enough.”

The Dakkari female frowned, looking down at the cosmetics in her hands. Her own eyelids were painted gold, her already dark eyes rimmed in a solid black powder. I didn’t want any of that on my face.

“Please,” I said, “just hand me the brush. I’ll brush out my hair, but that’s all I want.”

“I will do it,” the female said finally, gingerly setting her pots of cosmetics back into her bundle, though she didn’t seem happy about it. “It is my honor to serve you, Missiki.”

“My name is Luna,” I snapped, that overwhelming feeling returning full force, my voice sounding sharp to my own ears. I felt confined, on display. Nothing was in my control. I had been dropped into a world where nothing made sense and I just wanted someone to call me by my actual name. Not Missiki—whatever the hell that meant—not kalles or nekkar or kassikari or Morakkari.

Luna.

The name my mother had given me. An old name of our race. An ancient name.

Both of the Dakkari females blinked and exchanged a look with one another, freezing in place, their tails flicking behind them wildly. I blew out a breath, lifting a shaking hand to my wavy hair, which I usually kept pinned back since it curled around my cheeks.

“We cannot call you by your given name, Missiki,” the female said, her tone surprisingly gentle. “It is forbidden. Just as we do not call the Vorakkar by his given name.”

A name I still did not know, though I shared a bed with him. Though I’d bathed him and he’d caressed my breasts and told me I would be his queen.

Silence stretched out and the females seemed uncomfortable as they waited for me to speak.

“I’m sorry,” I finally whispered. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

Again they seemed uncomfortable, even with my apology. “You are our Missiki. You should not apologize to us. We are here to serve you. It gives us purpose and is a great honor bestowed on us by the Vorakkar,” the female repeated.

This was going nowhere. For whatever reason, these females thought they should obey me. They wanted to.

I sighed, looking at the brush the silent female had grabbed. “Very well,” I said softly. “No cosmetics, but will you brush my hair out and pin it back?”

“Lysi, Missiki,” the female breathed, seemingly relieved.

“Will you tell me your names at least?” I asked next, sitting on a nearby cushion. “Or is that forbidden too?”

“We are only piki. You may know our names,” the female said, though hesitantly, as if I wasn’t supposed to ask, as if it was strange. The customs of this culture would be difficult to learn, I realized. And what were piki? “My given name is Mirari.”

Mirari said something in Dakkari to the other female, who finally spoke, meeting my eyes for a brief moment before they darted away, and she said softly, “Lavi.”

It was then I realized that the silent female simply didn’t know the universal tongue, which was why she hadn’t spoken.

Nodding, I gave them a small, strained smile in return and felt Lavi move behind me to brush out my hair.

“What are piki?” I asked Mirari.

She was fiddling with the gold pins as she replied, “We are like…helpers. We are unmated females that travel with the horde. We help the wives of horde warriors with these things.”

“You like traveling with the horde?” I asked, hoping that my question wasn’t offensive. It seemed like a hard lifestyle to me, constantly on the move, no permanent roots.

Mirari said, “Lysi. It is our hope to become horde brides one day and this is how we attract warriors. It is how it has always been done in the hordes. One day, we will have piki of our own.”

I nodded, but I didn’t truly understand.

Mirari continued, a thread of excitement in her voice, or at least what I believed to be excitement, with, “Now that the Vorakkar has given us this honor, surely we will be brides soon. All of the horde will know us.”

Was this about the ‘queen’ thing?

Wisely, I kept my mouth shut, though questions raced in my mind. Truthfully, I wasn’t certain I wanted to know the answers. A part of me was still hoping the horde king would tire of me when he realized just how inexperienced I was when it came to sex and would allow me to return to my village. And, well, if what I feared he’d meant came true, then I knew he would never let me return.

The domed tent was silent as they finished brushing my hair. A few moments after that, Lavi had my hair braided and then pinned up in an intricate way, so it was off my face and neck.

“Will you eat now, Missiki?” Mirari asked once Lavi was done, casting a glance over at the food, still on the tray though it had gone cold. “You must be hungry now.”

I was famished. But the thought of eating made acid burn in my belly.

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

Mirari looked at the food and then back at me. “The Vorakkar will be displeased if you do not eat. He told us specifically that you needed sustenance.”

Closing my eyes, I asked, “Have you ever been hungry, Mirari? Truly hungry?”

The Dakkari female seemed surprised that I used her given name but she answered, “In the mornings after I wake, lysi.”

I shook my head, but she had answered my question regardless. The hordes had never known the hunger that plagued the settlements and villages spread across Dakkar. Of course they wouldn’t know. They fed fresh meat to their beasts, which told me they had meat to spare. They were nomadic. They followed their game across Dakkar, while still denying that opportunity to the settlements under penalty of death.

Though the foreign races had begun to settle on Dakkar over thirty years ago, we still struggled to produce crops and find fresh water. We still had an elementary knowledge of the land. All we knew was to never destroy it or else the Dakkari would come.

Mirari said something in Dakkari to Lavi after several moments of silence. Lavi stood and left the tent once again.

“What was I meant to do today?” I asked, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders again. I felt the collar around my neck whenever I swallowed.

Mirari studied me and then replied, “The Vorakkar was to take you out among the horde, to present you.”

Present me.

I wondered what Kivan was doing at that moment. I’d never been away from him this long before. I had promised him that I would see him again, but I wondered…was that a promise I could keep?

How would he survive? Without my credits coming in from my seamstress work, would he be able to save enough to buy rations? We had a few ration packs saved, but that would only be enough for a couple weeks, if that.

Grief made my throat burn. I had always taken care of him, protected him. Now he was alone, likely an outcast in the village now for his reckless actions yesterday.

The tent flap slapped open and I sucked in a startled breath when the horde king ducked inside, tense anger written on his face. Behind him, I saw Lavi, though she stayed outside.

“Rothi kiv, piki,” he growled, his voice dark and ominous.

Mirari inclined her head and hurriedly scuttled out. I watched her leave, a sense of betrayal making my lips press together.

They’d ratted me out to the horde king. And he was pissed.